


The Nothing Self

by ladymal



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Gen, Heavy Angst, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 20:38:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4891306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymal/pseuds/ladymal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Attacked and nearly killed, Saehin deals with the ramifications. A backstory fic for Saehin Lavellan about her semi-exile from Clan Lavellan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nothing Self

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the 30 Day Roleplaying Challenge. Prompt: Can you define a turning point in your character’s life?

She remembers that there had been blood. Lots of blood and it had all been hers. She was still covered in it only now it was no longer pouring from her like a river. It was dry and stiff, clumping her hair and pulling at the skin of her bare legs with each step. Saehin had tried to scrap it off with her nails but it had hurt and made her head hurt even more, so she’d given up. Why there was blood on the outside of her and not the inside where it belonged, she didn’t know. She didn’t even know exactly where she was going only that if she didn’t keep moving, she would die.

There was a place she was trying to find. She thought that there were people there and animals and homes that moved over the earth like ships over water but she couldn’t be sure. It was all jumbled together and the more she tried to untangle it, the worse it became. Her mind would twist and whirl until she had to clutch at her head to keep it all from tumbling out onto the forest floor. But she didn’t stop because she had to _remember_.

The Fade shuddered and stretched around her. Her thoughts drifted, bleeding together, slick as oil in mud. She stumbled and her shoulder smacked into the trunk of a tree. When she pushed away, the smooth bark crackled and turned black beneath her hand. Goosebumps prickled her skin as her breath fogged the air though the day was bright and warm. Beyond the metallic tang of blood, she could smell something sharp and alive. _I can help you_ , a voice slithered in her ear. _You will die if I don’t but I want to. You only have to let me_. 

That was wrong but the frightened part of her—trapped in things she’d forgotten—wanted to believe it. Shuddering, Saehin shook her head—frantic—until the pain sent her crashing to her knees and made her heave. Her whole body trembled as she coughed, choking on nothing but air. The voice fell silent as agony pounded in her skull and drowned it out.

With a lurch, she stood and staggered forward. One step and another and then she collapsed into the underbrush. Thorns ripped at her naked skin, making new wounds over the old ones. The world spun around her and she closed her eyes against it but she still felt like she was falling. Her fingers dug into the cool, loamy earth, trying to hold on so she wouldn’t drift into the sky.

When next she opened her eyes, the sun was low in the sky and there were footsteps and voices that sent terror spiking through her. Lightning boomed and struck a nearby tree. Saehin threw herself to her feet as someone shouted but she’d only taken a step before dropping to her hands and knees. Her heart beat wildly against her chest, trying to break through and she curled in on herself to keep it in. Plants crackled as frost gathered and lightning flashed. _Things_ were howling so she clamped her hands over her ears, swallowing a whimper.

She couldn’t control it. Magic poured from her, pulling at the Fade, weakening the Veil and she couldn't—

Nothingness slammed down around her and tore it all away. She gasped, her eyes rolling behind their lids. The air became heavy and still as quiet fell. Her thoughts were chaotic—disjointed—but the desperate fear that was running through her veins was clear. _They—she had to—_

“Saehin?”

The voice—low and calm and soothing as a lover’s touch—silenced her abruptly. She knew that voice but it was a sluggish moment before she could remember. _June_. He was standing not too far away from her, his hands loose at his sides. Where he had come from, she didn’t know, but at his back were other familiar faces and the panic that had been choking her subsided slightly. Confusion swelled in its place and she dug her palms into her eyes. _Where was she? Why was she—_

“Saehin?” Junrien prodded again. “Do you know who I am?”

It was a bewildering question. Of course she knew who he was though the thought came to her slowly. He was Junrien, clan hunter and her bondmate for over a year. Maybe he had forgotten.

“You are Junrien…” she said, trying to explain, but the words didn’t sound right. Before she could figure out why, they trailed off, turning to smoke and slipping away. 

“You’re safe.” She could hear him moving closer but her head ached too much to watch him. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

It was a strange thing for him to say. She opened her mouth to tell him so but then the world swayed and all she could do was sway with it. A gloved hand on her back—the leather soft and comforting against her bare skin—steadied her. She opened her eyes to see him crouched beside her, his pale hair turned to fire in the evening sun. He was pressing a vial into her hand and talking to her. _Again. Or did he never stop?_

“—badly hurt. You need us to help you and this is how we can do that.”

Saehin opened her hand and stared at the vial. A dark, viscous liquid sloshed inside and her heart skipped a beat. She didn’t want take it. It would hurt her in some way but no, that was wasn’t right. _June wouldn’t hurt me_. She didn’t know what to do. Nothing made sense and the more she tried to figure it out, the more it all spiraled away from her. It was terrifying and she didn’t know what to do. 

“I know you’re afraid,” Junrien reached out, hovering for a moment before gently gripping her free hand, “but I’m going to keep you safe.”

She looked into his face and alarm thrummed. Something was wrong but not with him. His expression was unreadable; a puzzle where the pieces fit but together they made a picture that she couldn’t understand. The Veil rippled and a sharp, charged smell prickled at her nose. _I—something is wrong with me_.

The thought startled her but she knew it was true and she finally decided. She was shaking and Junrien had to help her uncork the vial. Some of the liquid spilled onto her chin but most of it slithered down her throat, sickeningly sweet and thick like honey. It spread through her and too soon it had taken the Fade away. She lurched, her already tenuous control of her body lost entirely, but Junrien caught her before she could fall. His leather armor dug and pinched her skin as he held her to his chest but she couldn’t move away from it. She could only stare straight ahead and listen as others approached, their footsteps rustling the underbrush.

Someone that wasn’t Junrien touched her, lightly probing the back of her head, and fear fluttered in her chest. She wanted to flinch, to shove this unknown person away from her. _Don’t_. Junrien was whispering into her ear, his arms warm and secure around her, and she tried to remember his promise. 

“Ma emma eth,” he was saying as other voices talked around him. “Ma emma eth, ara lath.”

As he tucked an arm behind her knees and lifted her up, Saehin hoped it was true.

* * *

 

Most of that day and the next few were a blur. She remembered being carried back to camp. That the clan herbalist and Deshanna had taken care of her but that neither could do much. When Saehin was found, the wounds on her thigh and behind her ear had already been mended into thick scars and Deshanna was no true healer. Saehin’s head injury was beyond her and it could only be left to heal on its own. It took a while for clarity to return to her thoughts and when it did, it was to realize that everything was different. _She_ was different.

Months later and she still couldn’t find the person she had once been.

She woke up with tears dripping into her ears and the thrum of magic around her. Still half asleep, she fumbled for the banahl'ara—or magebane as the shemlin called it— that she’d left near her bedding the night before. Voices were muttering to her, quiet across the Veil, but to her relief, they were too many to hear clearly. At the moment, she didn’t think she could trust herself to ignore what they were offering.

Her hand found the vial and she downed its contents before lying back down. There was nothing sudden about magebane. It creeped through her, slowly drawing its blade along her connection to the Fade but somehow when the last thread snapped, she was never prepared for it. How could a person ever be prepared to lose a part of themselves? To feel deadened, empty? Though she was relieved when the unbridled magic around her dissipated and the demons fell quiet, she still hated every moment of it.

Silence rang in her ears and it was only then that she realized that she was alone.

June was usually with her, waking her and staying with her as the banahl'ara took effect but today he was missing. Saehin tried to push herself to her feet as fear stirred. After weeks of taking it, banahl'ara no longer paralyzed her but it still made her limbs sluggish and clumsy. She got onto her knees but there was nothing around to pull herself up with and her legs refused to move any farther without it. Panting and sick and her heart lodged in her throat, she could only sit there and struggle to breathe.

_Peace_ , the thought came, cutting through her rising panic. _You’re not alone. The others are just outside. Listen_. She did and she could hear them now. The snorts and stamps of the halla as they were roused for the day. A ladle clanging against its pot. Voices muffled and sleepy and then a huff of laughter. Good, familiar sounds that soothed her until the fear was only a restless writhing in her belly. Her clan was all around her and she was safe.

Strength was returning and she managed to stand somewhat unsteadily. With trembling, awkward hands, she stripped off her sleeping tunic and used it to dry the tears that were still fresh on her face. They were threatening to start again now that she had a moment to think but she blinked them rapidly away. A sharp bite to the inside of her cheek and tangy blood filled her mouth. _Do not think about it._

She began to dress for the day in simple clothing. It made her feel naked and vulnerable to be without her armor but with the way she was shaking, she’d never be able to put it on herself. She tugged on her breeches and tightened its cords. The scar on her thigh—puckered and shiny white—peeked through the lacing on the inside of the legs and she averted her eyes. Whoever had done it had wielded their blade with skill and the mark was long and perfectly straight despite having been cut deep. She did not like to wonder what sort of practice was required for such a thing.

A clean tunic was slipped over her head next, loose on her thin frame. Not bothering to do more than run her fingers once through her hair, she left the inarla she shared with Junrien. The sun was just starting to lighten the sky but plenty of her clanmates were awake. Saehin stood and watched them for a moment, jaw tight. No one had noticed her as of yet and though it made her stomach clench with guilt, she took the chance to disappear into the forest around them.

She didn’t go but a dozen feet in; the bright sails of their aravels could still be seen and the sounds from their camp were strong in her ears when she stopped. Feeling exposed on the ground, she picked a large poplar and scurried up to hide among its leaves. _Ma emma len_ , she thought bitterly but she didn’t climb back down. As much as she hated herself for it, she was simply too afraid.

Exhaustion plucked at her and she twisted to lean her forehead against the tree’s trunk, eyes closed. It would be good to sleep; to fall into the dreamlessness that banahl'ara would give her. She did not want to wander the Fade again, searching for someone that couldn’t be found. Her friend—the spirit who had chosen her to be a healer—was gone.

She didn’t remember _that_ day except for vague flashes of pain and magic and fear but she knew that she should have died. It was difficult for mages to heal themselves and she doubted she’d even been aware of what had been happening. The incision on her thigh was intended to bleed her dry and only Ariasa could have been the one to save her. She assumed that it had cost the spirit her life.

That, more than anything else, made her wish that whoever had done this to her had succeeded in killing her.

Tears spilled from her eyes and she pressed her palms into the sockets, trying to stifle them. They seemed to be nearly a constant since that day and she’d truly had a bellyful. The smallest things had her weeping or panicking or violently, dangerously furious and it was all entirely out of her control. Nothing she did made any difference. She was trapped in the middle of a raging storm, lost and terrified and entirely alone.

Anger flared sudden and hot and she had to choke off a scream of frustration. _Creators fucking damn it_. She slammed her hand against the trunk of the tree hard enough for the flesh to split. Pain flashed but instead of calming her like it usually did, it only made everything worse. She dug her fingers into her scalp and clenched her teeth hard enough to make her jaw ache. _Calm down. Calm down. Calm_ —

“Lethallan?”

The voice slashed through the chaos, sharp as steel, and she sucked in a startled breath. Her heart was pounding and she was panting as hard as if she’d just climbed a mountain but the beast was settling, chased back into its cage. She unclenched her hands from her hair and looked down through the emerald leaves of her tree. Deshanna was a few feet away, her head swiveling as she searched for her First.

“Here,” Saehin rasped.

Deshanna looked up and spotted her. “Come down, lethallan. I need to speak with you.”

Stomach tumbling over itself, she didn’t move. The tears were slowing but not quite gone and her eyes were swollen and stinging. Blood was still dripping from the gash on her hand, splattering her clothes with bright crimson drops. She realized then that her face must be covered in it as well and she hurriedly scrubbed at it with her tunic. She did not need to see herself to know what she looked like; a feral, mad thing that any sane person would be frightened of.

That she was frightened of herself probably didn’t say much.

“Saehin,” Deshanna said, the word sharp.

Frowning, she considered ignoring her before hopping and sliding her way to the ground. Deshanna was silent for a long moment when she saw her and Saehin waited, tense as a bowstring. The expected disapproval never came. Instead, Deshanna’s eyes—almost colorless from age—flickered to her First’s injured hand and she grabbed it with a gentle touch. Saehin flinched but forced herself still as cool, soothing magic sealed the wound into nothing more than a tiny scar. 

The bluish light faded but Deshanna held on, staring. They looked strange together; dark and pale, young and old. Saehin’s nails had taken on the purplish-black hue of banahl'ara and her hand was skeletal in its thinness. Next to the Keeper’s, Saehin’s was the one that looked like it belonged to an old woman.

“It pains me that you’re not well, lethallan,” Deshanna said. “Especially given what I have to say.”

Pausing, she finally let go and Saehin tucked her hand against her side. Wariness slithered through her and she searched the Keepers expression. To her frustration, it was as incomprehensible as ever, a mystery to a mind that didn’t know how to decipher it. It never used to be—the Keeper was not one to believe in hiding her thoughts—but there were plenty of things that weren’t _as they used to be_. 

“Your outbursts continue and seem to have not improved since the day you were found,” Deshanna continued. “Vela still cannot see. I doubt she ever will again.” 

“That was an accident,” Saehin snapped, flushing with anger even as she felt sick.

It _had_ been an accident. She’d been angry, yes, but she’d never intended to hurt anyone. The burst of fire she had conjured had been out of her control. She hadn’t meant to lash out at Vela. She _hadn’t_.

“I never said otherwise but it does not change things.” Deshanna’s voice was calm and even but it did nothing to soothe her. Saehin wrapped her arms around herself as the Keeper went on. “It will be for the best if you no longer lived with the rest of the clan.”

She rocked back on her heels as if the words had been a physical blow. Her face felt numb and she bit the inside of her lip just to make sure she could still feel it. “Is—is it not enough that I’ve been taking banahl'ara?”

Sighing, Deshanna shook her head. “You cannot take it forever. Have you not noticed what it is doing to you, lethallan?”

Of course, she had noticed. Every day she was thinner, weaker. It would kill her eventually but she failed to understand why that mattered. Not when she was being cast out to die alone instead.

Deshanna kept talking—about how the world was changing, that they needed eyes and ears out in it and how those would belong to her—but Saehin wasn’t really listening.

“Do you dislike me so much, hahren?” she asked, blinking, and to her disgust, her voice was small. Hurt.

“You know I do not,” Deshanna said with a hint of reproach. “Whatever the troubles between us, this is what is best for the clan and for you.”

A short, ugly laugh tore itself from her throat. “For the clan, undoubtedly. What will happen to its half-mad First is irrelevant.”

Deshanna reached out. “Da'len—”

Her breath came in shallow gasps as Saehin jerked away from her Keeper’s hand. “ _Don’t_.”

Silence fell between them, fraught and sharp-edged, the only noise the rustling of leaves as the wind blew. 

“I am sorry, da'len,” Deshanna said finally and she could no longer tell if it was true.

Saehin didn’t respond only shoved past her and jogged back to camp.

* * *

 

Junrien was still missing when she returned. For a long while, she stood in their empty inarla as anxiety and uncertainty prickled her skin before she began sorting through her things. She gathered up only what was necessary; a change of clothing, her shawl for the cold Marches nights, her comb and the gritty paste she used to clean her teeth. They all went into a small, neat pile to be put into a pack.

She was fumbling with the buckles of her armor—her throat too tight to release the frustrated swearing she wanted it to—when June ducked inside.

He was carrying a rucksack, a large, rolled-up fur strapped to the bottom, and he set it down before moving to help her. They didn’t speak and Saehin could only stare at the single pack, fear curling in her belly. _He wouldn’t make me survive this alone,_ she thought but it was small and quiet compared to the reality in front of her.

“Deshanna told you,” she said, mouth dry as she peered at him through her lashes.

His fingers paused and he avoided her eyes as he answered. “Last night.”

“And you didn't—” She stopped, disbelief and a lick of betrayal making her breath catch.

“I didn’t know what to say.”

“Right.” Shoving his hands away from her, she finished securing her armor herself. “A warning would have done.”

Watching as she knelt and began packing her things, Junrien said nothing. He had stocked the rucksack with what supplies she needed—including more than a few vials of magebane—and Saehin curled her lip at the sight. _I do not even need to visit the craftsmaster. How comforting_. She slung the full pack over her shoulder, grabbed her staff, and turned to her bondmate.

Her heart was pounding in her ears. “You are not coming with me.”

She hoped that he would contradict her, that he would hold her and say, _Of course I am_ , but she knew he would not.

“I’m sorry,” he said—still refusing to meet her eyes—and just like with Deshanna, she did not know if it was the truth.

Saehin laughed as tears fell freely. Things between them had been strained since that day but she never would have imagined this. Not when she loved him and she thought he had loved her, despite everything. _Obviously, I was mistaken._

“Anbanal'in ma banal'abelas,” she spat out. “Ma banal'nuvenin. Ma banal'geron.” 

He was looking at her now; whether in anger or hurt or something else, she didn’t know. Fury and grief were burning in her chest and she flicked her jaw with the back of her hand at him then left without another word.

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanon #1: When not on the move, Dalish elves sleep/live in yurt-like structures that they call inarlas (meaning ‘home that is always near’). They are made of wooden frames covered in dyed oil-cloth—or sometimes leather— with tapestries for doors. These tapestries can be embroidered with religious or clan symbols but are just as often decorated with less meaningful designs.  
> Headcanon #2: The gesture Saehin makes is the Dalish way of flippin’ the bird.
> 
> Translations; bits of which are taken from Project Elvhen (note: some of these are intentionally inaccurate ‘cause Dalish):
> 
> Ma emma eth: You are safe.  
> ara lath: my love  
> banahl'ara: my completely made up elven word for magebane; means 'plant of the nothing self’  
> Ma emma len: You are a child.  
> Anbanal'in ma banal'abelas: Fuck your empty sorrow lit. To the void with your nothing sorrow.  
> Ma banal'nuvenin: You are nothing I want  
> Ma banal'geron: You are worthless


End file.
